After the Battle
by Leola Llewellyn
Summary: “You never asked anyone to die for you, Harry. But without anyone asking, you died for us.” Ginny wiped a tear from her eye and lowered her voice to a whisper. “How could I keep from loving you?”


The Battle of Hogwarts ended in glory—Lord Voldemort vanquished, the Boy Who Lived and the Hogwarts resistance victorious. The morning light flooded Hogsmeade village with a great sense of renewal, the true brightness of the absence of dementors. The Leaky Cauldron and the Hog's Head were both in roaring business all day, everyone buying rounds of butterbeer for everyone else, for everyone had someone else to thank, someone else who had pushed them out of a curse's range at the right moment or stunned a Death Eater with a killing curse on his lips. The older wizards compared this happy day to Halloween of eighty-one and asked each other "is it really over this time?" for to them, the whole ordeal was one long war, interrupted by a happy seventeen years' hiatus.

There was one name on every person's lips, and one toast repeated every hour: "To Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived—Again!" Every witch and wizard was eager to hail their hero, and certainly, if he were to step into the pub, he would be assailed with dozens of free butterbeers and drinks on the house.

But Harry was not going to join the festivities. The atmosphere was palpably different in the boys' dormitory of Gryffindor Tower, which was filled with Weasleys. The curtains were closed and the stone chamber very dim, and everyone was trying to sleep. None of them seemed able to bear being alone—George had spent a very long time awake before climbing into a bed with Charlie, Bill and Fleur were fast asleep next to each other, and Ginny had fallen asleep sobbing silently into her pillow next to Percy. Hermione and Ron were sleeping in each other's arms, Hermione's head nuzzled into Ron's chest, marveling in her slumber at the gift of his beating heart upon her ear. From time to time he woke up to stroke her hair and kiss her forehead as though amazed at their wondrous fortune of being alive together.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had taken a long time to come to bed. They had spent the morning making arrangements for their deceased son, and Mrs. Weasley sobbed terribly in her bed until noon.

Harry slept through the afternoon, waking only at dinnertime when Kreacher brought them all a feast of sandwiches. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sat upon one bed and ate ravenously; it was only confronted with food that Harry, Ron, and Hermione remembered that they had not eaten anything in over twenty-four hours, not since breakfast at Shell Cottage the morning before, when they had been setting off to infiltrate Gringotts.

"You know what?" Ron said. "I think we should tune in to _Potterwatch_."

"Ron," Hermione said gently, "I doubt they're broadcasting now. The regular contributors aren't… well they've been lost…"

They looked downcast for a moment, thinking of Remus and Fred. Harry noticed with a sense of bitter humor the way that Hermione described them as "lost," as though they were simply possessions lost in a child's bedroom, apt to be found at any moment.

"No, Lee said he was going to broadcast alone today. He wanted to give some details on the battle, personal stuff the Prophet and even the Quibbler won't be able to cover," Ron replied.

So Ron began tuning into the wireless, and Ginny supplied the password, "Dobby."

"We're broadcasting today from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, scene of last night's victory," Lee Jordan was saying. With the war ended, there was no longer any need for secrecy. "Firstly I'd like to take a moment in remembrance of all of our heros that died last night. Among them were two brave wizards previously featured here on Potterwatch: Romulus and Rabier, or Remus Lupin and Fred Weasley." Ron's brow furrowed deeply and Hermione's eyes welled with tears. Ginny's shoulders gave a sudden shake. Harry put his arm around them, and she leaned her head onto his chest.

"Also dead are Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, Remus's wife, who has left behind a month-old son, Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor student…" the list seemed endless. Harry listened and connected a face to each name, a story to each person. He remembered their corpses lined up in the great hall and their families gathered around them. If only he could have faced Voldemort sooner. . .

"We also need to remember and thank the living. Professor Minerva McGonagall stepped up marvelously as new Headmistress, organizing the protection of the castle and sending underage students to safety. The entire Hogwarts staff and students held up a strong defense. Even the house-elves of the castle kitchens demonstrated creativity and bravery in battle tactics. Aberforth Dumbledore, innkeeper at the Hog's Head, effectively transported Order members and other resistance fighters into Hogwarts. And of course, we owe tremendous thanks to Harry Potter, the man who lived through it all."

Harry looked down at his hands. He wasn't sure that he deserved such gratitude.

"Potter faced Voldemort—no folks, the name's no longer Taboo—in the Forbidden Forest at midnight and gave himself up to the Killing Curse without a fight. No, no, no, Potter's alive, don't worry, although as last time nobody knows how. His sacrifice placed an enchantment of ancient magic that nobody really understands over everyone in the battle—Voldemort could not kill anyone after that moment. I'm sure many of us, myself included, owe our lives to Harry Potter."

Ginny turned to look at Harry. "How _did_ you survive?" she asked.

Harry took a deep breath. It was impossible to explain the whole thing in less than an hour or so, and quite as impossible to make it believable. "Sometime I'll tell you everything," he said. There was no danger in it now, no danger in confiding in her, no danger in being with her at all, really.

"You know, Harry, now that the whole wizarding world's got a life debt to you, you'll never be in danger of murder," Ron said. "Anyone who tries to give you the old green-light treatment will end up strangling themselves like Pettigrew, won't they? You can settle down and live the quiet life."

Harry laughed. "I hadn't thought of it that way. I suppose I should put that on my application to the Auror department. They can always use someone indispensable, right?"

But those many deaths and the fact of his own miraculous survival troubled Harry. He knew how it had happened, and why, but still felt it unfair that he had been given a chance at life that so many others deserved as well. What if Fred had had the Cloak, Stone, and Wand? And Lupin—he had twice fought Voldemort's rule. Didn't he deserve to raise his own son?

These thoughts pervaded Harry's mind, keeping him awake that night. Mrs. Weasley's loud, heavy sobs intensified his guilt. There was nothing anyone could say to comfort her, and when Ginny's higher pitched, softer tears joined her mother's, Ginny, who rarely cried and only with good reason, there was a deep pang in Harry's heart.

In time they grew quiet, but Harry lay awake. He remembered his mother in the forest, her hair long and dark red like Ginny's. She had sacrificed herself for him just as he had sacrificed himself for Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and all the others. Hadn't she deserved a second chance at life too? He remembered how she had stayed with him until the end to support and comfort him, to give him the courage he could not muster up on his own. For those few moments, she had been such a good mother. It was so terribly unjust that those few moments could not have been seventeen years, so terribly unjust that a kind and brave woman was denied the motherhood she deserved and her scared and lonely son the mother he needed. Despite himself, Harry found himself crying. As he thought of his father's pride in him, Sirius's assuring that death would be painless, and Remus's regret that he could not live to father his son, hot tears sprung to his eyes. Teddy Lupin would grow up without his parents, just as Harry had. And now Mrs. Weasley, the closest thing to a mother that Harry had ever known, was suffering with an intense grief that Harry had, in a way, caused her. . .

There was a soft noise at the side of Harry's bed. Harry sat up quickly, alert. Months of living on the run had finally taught him what Mad-Eye Moody could not impress with words alone: constant vigilance. He lifted his hand to pull the curtains aside, but in a moment this was done for him.

It was Ginny, standing before him in her nightgown, a sad smile and an uncertain apology across her face. The moonlight fell upon her, and Harry had never seen her more beautiful. He hastily and embarrassedly wiped his eyes, but she did not look away. "Harry," she said softly, understandingly. She sat down at the edge of the bed. Harry moved aside to let her in under the blankets.

"Ginny, I'm sorry," Harry said. "I didn't mean for this. . . any of this. . ."

Ginny took his hand. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But Fred… if only I had defeated Voldemort sooner…" he gave a sniff and paused. "I never wanted anyone to die for me…"

"We were all prepared to die for you. I was prepared to die for you," Ginny said.

"I was terrified that you would," Harry told her. "I could never forgive myself, never stop missing you… never stop loving…" his voice broke, and the idea was so terrible that it brought a fresh tear to each of his eyes.

Ginny looked into his eyes, and though they were shining with tears as well, they bore that same blazing look that she had given him before their first kiss. "You never asked anyone to die for you, Harry. But without anyone asking, you died for us." She wiped a tear from her eye and lowered her voice to a whisper. "How could I keep from loving you?"

Harry looked at her for a moment, eyes shining and blazing, and abandoned a year's worth of restraint. He reached for her, and the next moment Ginny was in his arms, her hair in his fingers, her lips on his, her slender chest close against his own. They were kissing as they had never kissed before, not because the love was fiercer, but because it was more lasting. Harry was kissing her now not in a fleeting moment, not as a sidetracked man with a mission, not as a marked man putting her in danger, but as a free man in open love with her for good. "I love you, Ginny," he whispered, over and over again as he kissed her. The words were true and powerful, marked with months worth of longing, and saying them was a blessed release. "I love you."

Moments later they lay together, arms tight around each other, bodies warm and welcoming. Ginny spoke quietly, "When I thought you were dead, it was like the world had ended. . . I had never b-been so sad in my life. . . I didn't know how I could keep fighting."

Harry reached down and gently wiped a tear from under her eye. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm glad I came back, at least. I never want to cause you pain, Ginny," he said seriously.

"I know," she said. "You're always trying to spare me. But you don't have to do that anymore, Harry. The war is over. You ended it. You deserve real happiness now."

Perhaps she did not know how much those words meant to him. Harry kissed her on the forehead and she closed her eyes contentedly, caressing his shoulder blades with her fingers. He closed his eyes too, and together they fell asleep, peaceful and in love.


End file.
